


All Tied Up

by MissFiction



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Light Bondage, Nervousness, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Riding, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 20:11:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4493130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissFiction/pseuds/MissFiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You spend a little quality time with Captain Rogers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Tied Up

His blue eyes were staring at you from the centre of your bed, but he held his tongue and did not say a single word while you hovered in front of the posts; half in sight and half hidden by the white curtains that draped from the bed posts. The two that hid your body blew with a warm breeze that came in from the balcony were those nearest the foot of the bed.

The other two, however, were stationary. They were knotted around a pale, thick wrist. Tangled in a knot that Steve Rogers would not loosen. Had he wanted to he could surely tear the fabric and have it fall away with a solid enough tug of his arms, but he lacked the desire. It was not often that you came to him with your desires so openly, and so despite your hesitation to begin he did not feel it particularly necessary to rush you and take matters in to his own hands. He was much more interested in seeing what you would do. It would just take you a few moments to work up your nerve. So he said nothing. He waited patiently.

You would move when you were ready.

Steve did, however, feel an impatience growing in his chest. He could see that you had left your shorts by the closed bedroom door, and you were wearing one of his shirts. It hung off one shoulder it was so large, and your hair looked as though it had already had some hands run through it. Made him wish he could take a fist-full of hair himself and tilt your head so his mouth could run along the sensitive skin of your exposed throat.

You looked upon him demurely from your position behind the the sheer curtains but still made no move towards him. You hadn't touched him since your fingers had gently touched his wrists as you secured them to the bed posts by the head of the frame, and even that had been all. He had tried to kiss you gently as you put your little fantasy in motion, but you had rested your palm against his chest and pushed him down into the relaxed position he remained in. Except for one particular... part; which despite– or maybe caused by– a lack of attention remained at such.

Silence weighted the air between the two of you, tension so thick you swore you could likely cut it with a knife, but your chest swarmed with butterflies. Dreaming about something and putting it in to practise are two distinctly different things. Having the perfectly structured blond laid out before you, waiting eagerly with a blazing gaze that threatened to ignite you, was an entirely different story.

You lick your lips and let go of a shuddering breath. “Are you comfortable?” you asked. “I didn't tie them too tight did I? Are your arms getting tired?”

“I'm fine,” Steve murmured quickly, his voice thick with some emotion you're not sure you can place. His eyes don't waver as he speaks to you, and it makes you feel so warm that you have to cast your eyes to the corner for a moment and take another deep breath. “Are _you_ alright?”

He's such a sweet man; he indulges you when you bring him crazy ideas and want to tie him up and he's _still_ concerned for you when you leave him lying there just looking at him for what has to have been at least ten minutes while you try and get a handle on the feelings raging beneath your breast. You nod fervently before taking a brave step up to the end of the bed. Steve's eyes rake over you as you climb up and kneel at the edge where his feet rest. The shirt slips a little further down your shoulder, he can see the swell of your breasts as your fingers play with the hem of the fabric.

The room is quiet, save for the sounds of summer than play a symphony outside the open window. The gentle breeze causes the curtains to swathe insistently around your hips and thighs but you don't spare the effort to reposition them behind you.

Steve makes a noise, like you've stolen his breath away. His arms tug at the fabric, as though he were trying to reach out and run his hands along your skin, something that naturally would have been the next step in a round of your love-making, but he stops at the first hint of resistance from his binds. You smile and take yet another deep breath of your own, this time exhaling some of the anxiousness that still stirred.

Without word or warning you drop your hands to the sheets and crawl up the length of his body, moving slowly and deliberately, trying to ignore the way your arms tremble. Steve, to his credit, does his best not to chuckle at you and lets his eyes wander your torso. The shirt gapes open around your throat as you lean forward; he wets his lips again, dreaming about leaving you marked and bruised around your collar bones.

Steve finds himself surprised when you stop directly over top of his hips and brazenly grind downward. He gasps, keens, and bucks his hips suddenly at finally being touched, almost unseating you. You brace your hands firmly against his pelvis and roll more insistently. His hands clench uselessly against the posts, but his lower body curls powerfully to meet your every movement regardless. The keening moans that bubble from your lips only urge him on. Steve's mouth drops open as you ride against his hardening cock, a satisfying moan purrs out of him when he feels the soft lines of your body against him and how wet you are already.

You lean forward even more, lying flush against him until you are resting your ear against the super soldier's heart, listening to its erratic pounding and physically feeling its rapid rise and fall while your hips kept their smooth rhythm.

His voice is quiet at first, he moans softly into your hair as the pressure builds between you. You press gentle kisses to his chest. His body gets unbearably tense underneath yours every time your lips touch him, but his voice gets no louder while his breath grows more rapid.

“You're so beautiful,” he murmurs. When you look up at him again his pupils are blown wide and his face is flushed red. He's biting his lips even as he tries to lean towards you aiming for a kiss; you simply push your face in to the crook of his neck, nibbling gently at the smooth skin there and nudging her hips against him again. " _God that feels so good..._ ”

The fabric around his wrists tugs with effort to remain still, the wood creaking threateningly. You both know that he could snap the restraint with a hard enough pull– hell, he could probably break the posts off the bed frame if he pulled hard enough– but you knew that he would do his best to remain still since you had asked him if he would be willing to do this for you. Eager to please you, he had agreed readily. The look on his face, however, suggested that he had not quite expected that it would be so hard to keep his hands to himself when he knew that he _could_ touch you whenever he wanted but simply was not _allowed_ to.

Steve tries to follow when you lean back and away suddenly, lifting your lower half so there is no more contact between you. His hips stutter into nothing, and his head rolls back as he gives you a groan and a disparaging look. He calls you a tease. You deny nothing.

You spin your hips in little circles and you slide Steve's shirt up your stomach. His eyes instantly drop from your face and stare at the skin you reveal it inch by inch, flushing an even brighter shade of red. His fingers flex, but he makes no other movement for fear of snapping his careful control. Seeing your lack of panties and soft belly cause him to make another whining noise in his throat; the bottom of your breasts has him kicking his feet impatiently, trying to nudge your legs apart and to force the return of the weight of your body to his, but your hands stop. The smug smile that curls your lips is driving him crazy, but he finds it hard to keep a serious expression when faced with it head on.

“You... look really good,” you whisper, kneeling above him, looking down at his prone form, “all tied up to my bed like this.” The silks around his wrists look like they're finally loosening some, though, so you finish taking off the shirt and lean over him more to tighten the knots. He whistles lowly, blue eyes sparking mischievously as you do so. He knows you know the efforts are fruitless anyways, but he plays along when you give him a _look_.

“You look really good _above me_ like this,” he counters. He moans again when you drag your hands lightly down his biceps, forearms, his chest, to his stomach.

Hands resting on his abdominal muscles, you raise your behind once more and line up your body with his. You tremble with your hand on him as you guide him slowly into your centre. When you meet his eyes again you swore the fire blazing in them could swallow you whole. Without breaking contact you sink down on his cock and suddenly you're unable to calm the hammering of your heart, the shaking of your legs as you seek out a rhythm, or the way your hands clutch at any part of him they can reach. Your fingers card through his hair and cling to the short hairs at the back of his head.

Despite the fact that soon enough you're riding him and continuously dipping out of his reach he still tries to push his mouth on you, wherever he can get a fraction of contact. Even though you're quite enjoying the look of desperation on his face you find that you cannot deny him when he whispers soft pleas for more as you continue to tease. True to his word, however, he does his best to keep his hands from straying from where they are bound.

A string of curses leaves your lips. It is a lot of work to be the party on top, and while you're unbearably turned on by the position of power over your strong boyfriend it becomes increasingly hard for you to maintain your tempo as your thighs shake when he hits a spot inside you _just so_.

“Do you want me to take control?” asked Steve, softly, tugging at those soft restraints a little for emphasis. His eyes plead with you to let him, but you hesitated. “ _L_ et me, let me, _please_ baby...”

You shake your head, but you can't bring the reply from your tongue. Instead you cover his lips with yours and kiss fervently. He meets your passion and then some. Your tongue touches his and coaxes his mouth open; with mingling breath you taste his lips cradling his head in your palms. Your body reaches its limit and while you can feel yourself teetering at the edge you fear that your lack of stamina cannot drive both of you to orgasm.

But you don't want to give in.

“Tell me,” you beg into his mouth, before returning to your blazing kisses, “tell me when you're going to cum.” Your entire body shakes as he bites at your plush bottom lip.

Steve doesn't respond. He's quiet, thanks to your welcome distraction, but the movement of his own hips never ceases. With all the effort he can manage he pounds upwards in to you to match every time you sink upon him, ignoring the slightly awkward angle he is forced to move at and the difficulty of not having his arms for leverage. He uses the bindings to his advantage, wrapping them around his fist and using them to hoist his pelvis, but the wooden posts creak violently in protest.

For fear of your expensive frame, you tell yourself, and certainly _not_ for any other reason, your shaking fingers return to the white silk knots around his wrists. A pointless effort, because at the first sign of release Steve finally yanks hard enough to break the weak layers of fabric.

Once freed, his hands are _everywhere._

His hands touch your breasts, and trail upwards to tangle in your hair as he kisses you hard, once, twice. Again and again. The dip between your legs, moving your thighs and altering the angle so he can pound ruthlessly against the _perfect_ spot inside you. His smile is crooked when he pulls away and this time _you_ are the one who follows after him. But he moves his hands once more to grip your hips tightly, lying back and using all of his strength to fuck you from below. You squirm above him, wholeheartedly giving him free reign to end the torment. You're gripping his arms hard enough to leave half moon crescents in his biceps but if it hurts him he doesn't say anything.

All at once there's a flash of white and suddenly you're seeing stars. Your voice is impossible to quell and you crumple forward against his damp chest as the equivalent of an earthquake shakes your very core. It is not long that you feel him finish as well. He makes no move to slip out of you, however, instead opting to wrap his arms around and hold you completely still. Steve's hands rub soothing circles along your back and strokes your hair.

You both breathe heavily for a few long boneless moments. “I couldn't do it,” you pant.

Steve laughs. “Thank goodness. I thought I was going to break something.”

“I thought so too,” you tease, still panting.

His hand touches your face. He trails a knuckle slowly over your cheek and uses the pad of his thumb to wipe a bead of sweat on the way down. His grin returns as he plants one more soft kiss to your lips before lying back against the pillows and tucking a blanket around the two of you. You settle naturally against his side, resting against his shoulder.

“You're going to have to get something stronger to keep me down next time,” he says conversationally.

You can only laugh.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Alright alright alright alright. More self-indulgent trash ahaha end me <3
> 
> Very little dialogue in this one, was aiming for something a little more atmospheric! As always please leave a kudos if you enjoyed, love me that sweet validation.


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